Yet not a word could crawl out of her mouth. Only a choke, and a guttural sound she barely recognized as her own, except that it burned in her throat. She turned away and fumbled with her canteen so Shang wouldn’t see the tears sliding down her cheeks.
“What will you do now that the war is over, Ping?” Shang asked. “Will you go home?”
“Home?” Mulan repeated. She hadn’t thought about that yet. Would things be different when she returned home, now that she’d served as a soldier in the army? Or would they go back to the way they had been? How could they, though, after everything that had happened…everything she’d done? “Yes. I would like to.”
Shang reached for her arm. “Your family will be very proud of you, Ping. I heard that you’d taken your father’s place. He was an esteemed warrior. My father always held him in high regard.”
Mulan kept silent. How could she tell Shang that she was really a girl? That she’d stolen her father’s armor and conscription notice to join the army?
Yes, she’d done it to save her father from having to serve again. He was an old man now. He walked with a cane and had never fully recovered from his battle injuries fighting for China decades ago.
Just thinking about it made her heart heavy. The last night she’d been home, she’d stolen a glimpse at Baba practicing his battle stances with his sword. Not even a minute into his exercise, he’d collapsed, clutching his injured leg in pain. Seeing that, she knew he wouldn’t survive. She had to be the one to go in his place.
But her reasons didn’t matter. She’d disobeyed her parents, dishonored them. They must have been so angry when they found she’d left.
They had a right to be angry. She’d not only disobeyed them, but worse, she’d lied to them. She’d deceived them.
The same way she’d deceived Shang.
Oh, how she wanted to tell him the truth! But not now. Not like this.
The silence dragged on. Mulan knew she should say something, but what? Shang’s words had been so honest, so sincere. He thought of her as a true friend, someone he trusted. Little did he know that she’d been lying to him this whole time.
You think he’s a great captain, she reminded herself. That was never a lie, and now…now you think of him as a friend, too.
“I’m glad to be your friend,” she said quietly.
Shang smiled again. A smaller smile than last time—Mulan could tell he was struggling not to show his pain. “Will you do something for me?”
“Yes, of course,” she blurted. “Anything.”
Shang stared up at the clouds drifting across the sky. Mulan looked up, too. Geese threaded the clouds, like they were sifting through snow.
“Take my ashes home to my mother,” he whispered, “so I might be buried beside my ancestors. It will mean so much to her.”
“Shang.” His name clung to her throat. It hurt to speak. “You can’t give up. You have to fight on. You have to live.”
“Tell her…not to be sad. Tell her I’m with Father.”
Mulan bit her lip. She was trembling, and not from the cold. The bleakness in Shang’s face, the certainty in his words that he was going to die. It couldn’t be!
A swell of heat burst in her throat, and she had to fight not to let the tears come. She would not let Shang’s words shatter her, not without a fight.
She took his hand—his cold, limp hand—and entwined her fingers in his. She squeezed gently. “Yes,” she whispered. “I promise. But you—”
“You, too, Ping,” Shang interrupted. “Don’t blame yourself.” That small smile again. It pained Mulan to see it more than it comforted her.
She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. A silent sob escaped her throat. Her lungs burned. “You have to keep fighting. We’ll be in the Imperial City in a few days. Just hang on, Shang. Please.”
“At least now I know.…” He stopped to gather his breath, then closed his eyes again. “Now…I know…that China will be in good hands.”
It was dark by the time Mulan made it down the mountain and caught up with the other soldiers. Lighting a lantern to help guide their way to the camp, Mulan saw Shang’s breath curl into the cold air. She shivered. It was warmer down off the pass, but the air was still chilled, and she knew it would only get colder as night went on. She adjusted the blanket over Shang’s body, then chirped to hurry Khan along.
“Almost there,” she chanted, not sure whether the reassurance was meant more for her horse or for the sleeping Shang. “Almost there, almost there.”
The soldiers had made camp along the outskirts of a small forest around the base of the mountain. The sight of a blazing fire with smoke unfurling into the sky, a pile of freshly cut wood, and a cluster of sturdy, wind-blocking tents lifted Mulan’s heart. And Khan’s, it appeared. Once the horse saw the fire, he picked up speed.
“Ping!” Yao and Ling hurried over to help her lift Shang off Khan’s back. Chi Fu saw her, too. He crossed his arms and glared at Yao and Ling.
“Where do you two think you are going?” he shouted. “Come back here.”
“We’re going to cut some more wood,” Ling responded. “Be right back!”
“Insubordinate ruffians!” Chi Fu harrumphed, then pushed open his tent flap to go back inside. He glanced back, fixing a stare on Mulan. “I knew Captain Li wasn’t ready to lead. I knew he didn’t deserve such a great responsibility. And look now; if his soldiers had learned to follow his orders, he wouldn’t be dying.”
Yao raised a fist at the Emperor’s counsel. “The captain isn’t dead!”
But Chi Fu had already swiveled on his heel and gone inside his tent.
Mulan bit her lip and turned to her friends. “Thanks for your help.”
“We were worried you got lost,” replied Ling. “How’s Captain Li doing?”
Mulan shook her head. Her eyes were swollen, her voice raw. “Not great.”
Yao’s shoulders slumped. He was usually the most belligerent of the group, but even his bruised black eye looked sad. “We caught some pigeons. Chien-Po’s making soup. I’ll bring you some.”
“All right,” Mulan said tiredly. How long had it been since she’d eaten? How could she be hungry when Shang was fighting for his life? Still, she forced a smile. “Shang could use some good, hot soup. Are there any more tents?”
“Take mine,” Ling offered, pointing. “We made it ready for you.”
Mulan looked at her friends gratefully. “You guys are the best.”
“It’s the least we can do,” Ling replied with a shrug. He picked up Shang by the shoulders, Yao lifted the captain’s legs, and they walked with her to the tent.
“What are you doing?” Chi Fu cried, popping out to observe the soldiers carry Shang into Ling’s tent. “I said no one is permitted to help Ping.”
“We made camp,” Yao argued. “What does it matter if we help him now or not? So report me.”
“And me.”
“And me,” Chien-Po chimed in, holding up a soup ladle.
Chi Fu grunted, and he scribbled furiously on his scroll. “I will.”